Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
T wenty minutes later they were sitting at the top of the lighthouse, sipping tea and savouring the delicious cake that Clemmie had baked. The view was breathtaking, the ocean stretching out beneath the open sky, a gentle breeze bringing the scent of saltwater.
‘This is the life,’ she said contentedly, taking a bite of cake. A thick layer of cream and jam oozed out the other side, and, laughing, she quickly licked her fingers clean. Max grinned as they both stretched their feet out to rest on a nearby wicker trunk, enjoying the last of the day’s sunshine as it slowly ebbed away.
‘I think I’m done with cleaning for now. I’m actually feeling exhausted, and I’ve still got to wrap up the paintings I’ve sold today, though they can probably wait for tomorrow. We’ve made a great start. Thank you for coming to help.’
‘What’s the plan for moving in?’ he asked, making short work of the cake and placing the empty plates on top of the wicker basket. He stretched his arm around her and Dilly snuggled into his chest.
‘If I can get the rest of the lighthouse cleaned in the evenings of this week, I can hopefully start to move my stuff across this weekend. Next week I want to paint the walls of the new gallery and finish the portrait of Mum. Once that’s done, I can organise the opening day. I also need to advertise for a member of staff to work in the current gallery.’
‘You’ve got it all planned.’
‘Yes, and it’s going to be a busy few weeks.’
‘Remember I’m here to help.’ Max nudged her elbow. ‘What’s in there? It looks like an old fishing trunk.’
Dilly pointed towards the wicker trunk. ‘That, you mean? I’ve not looked yet,’ she said. ‘There’s a padlock that’ll need to be cut off.’
Max leaned over to inspect the rusty lock. ‘It doesn’t need to be cut off, it’s not actually locked,’ he replied, removing the padlock and placing it on the floor next to her.
Dilly’s eyes widened with anticipation. ‘It might be treasure!’ she exclaimed, eagerly untying the leather strap that bound the lid to the basket. ‘Lighthouse treasure!’ She lifted the lid, and they both peered inside.
The first item she pulled out was a pair of binoculars. With a playful grin, she immediately raised them to her eyes and focused on Max. ‘I spy, with my little eye, a gorgeous man who takes my breath away every time I see him,’ she teased, leaning over to place a soft kiss on his lips before setting the binoculars aside. ‘What’s this?’ she asked, pulling out a curious-looking metal item.
Max seemed to recognise it. ‘That’s an oil pitcher,’ he explained. ‘They used these to fill the large lamp with oil. And this,’ he continued, pulling out another piece, ‘is an oil drip pan. They used it to fill lamps, lanterns and smaller oil cans. The items would be placed on the tray, and the oil poured in until they were full.’
Dilly looked at him, impressed. ‘How do you know so much about this stuff?’
He shrugged modestly. ‘Just things I’ve read over the years.’
‘Good-looking and intelligent, you do have it all going on, don’t you, Max Harrington?’ she teased.
‘And this,’ he said, pulling out the last item, ‘is a clock!’
Dilly rolled her eyes with a smile. ‘No kidding, Sherlock. Even I could have guessed that one.’
Max grinned. ‘It’s probably to keep track of the lamp’s operation and oil consumption.’
Dilly raised an eyebrow, smirking. ‘You’re making this up as you go along.’
‘Just an educated guess,’ he admitted with a playful grin.
Dilly then picked up an old leather-bound logbook. She carefully opened it. ‘Oh my, look at this…’ She blew out a breath. The pages were filled with neat handwritten notes. ‘It’s years old. The old lighthouse keepers logged the weather and events, and there are even folded-up maps inside.’ She flipped through the pages, suddenly stopping. Her face grew serious as she read a particular entry.
‘What is it?’ Max asked, noticing her intense expression.
Dilly looked up. ‘This is a record of the night of the storm, when my mum was born and my grandad lost his life. The storm is detailed here along with the number of explosives that were set off, signed and dated by Mack Selby.’ She placed a hand over her heart, visibly moved. ‘This must have been the last thing he recorded before he died.’
‘Your grandmother must have been such a remarkable woman, especially during such a difficult time.’
They sat in silence for a moment. Finally, Max spoke, his tone almost reverent. ‘What a fantastic piece of history.’
Dilly nodded, feeling a deep connection to the past. Her thoughts drifted to her grandmother, imagining what she must have felt that fateful night. One moment, she had a loving family and was about to welcome a child into the world; the next, she faced the daunting reality of raising that child alone. But, testament to her grandmother, she brought up Dilly’s mother all by herself. If it wasn’t for her strength and reliance, Dilly might not be here today.
Dilly stood up and peered through the binoculars, marvelling at the panoramic view. ‘I can see everything from up here: the gulls, the puffins, and even the guests sitting inside The Sea Glass Restaurant. There’s a couple having seabass… Oh, and one having lobster.’
‘You’re kidding me. You can’t see that.’
‘I could be right nosy from up here,’ she kidded delightedly. Feeling mischievous, she trained the binoculars on Max’s flat. ‘And I can spy on you. I could watch you getting changed for bed if I fancied,’ she teased.
‘I might need to get myself a pair,’ he said with a chuckle. ‘Though I’m hoping that sometime in the near future we won’t need them… because we’ll be in the same bed together.’
But Dilly barely heard his comment because her focus had shifted. The binoculars were fixed on a figure standing at the end of the jetty. Her breath caught in her throat, and she gasped. ‘It’s her,’ she whispered, her voice barely audible. ‘Oh my God, it’s her.’ Her voice rose. ‘I’m not dreaming. She’s alive!’ Her voice trembled with emotion. ‘She’s here, at the lighthouse.’
Her heart raced as she flung the binoculars toward Max, barely able to contain her shock and excitement. Her pulse was racing. ‘It’s my mum!’ she repeated, before racing down the spiral staircase as if her life depended on it, with a speed that surprised even herself.
Max shouted after her. ‘Dilly, wait!’ but his words barely registered as she reached the second floor.